


Consultation

by NegativEvitageN



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Jimstrade, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:00:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NegativEvitageN/pseuds/NegativEvitageN
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A guilty man is found innocent. Lestrade goes to seek the help of certain notorious criminal mastermind to take him down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consultation

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I had already posted this here on AO3, but apparently I had forgotten. Woops! So here it is now.

“I need your help,” Lestrade says immediately upon barging into the room. No use wasting time on meaningless small talk.

The man draped in the chair looks up at him nonchalantly, boredom written clearly on his face, and regards him for a moment, eyes flicking over his entire body.

“Oh, Inspector,” he greets with a wicked grin, his eyes dead and piercing, “You must be desperate to come to me.”

Lestrade gets straight to the point, reaches into his jacket’s inside pocket, pulls out a picture and slams it down on the desk.

“Alex Crawford. You worked for him, correct?” he stabs the picture with his pointer finger and slides it forward.

Moriarty barely even glances at the photo before his eyes wander to the window in boredom, “Oh him? Sim~pletonnnn,” he dismisses in a sing-song voice.

“Yeah, simpleton who managed to trick a court into believing he’s innocent,” Lestrade huffs in frustration, snatching the picture and stuffing it back into his pocket, “They just let him off. He’s going free. But he’s guilty, I know he is.”

Moriarty looks back at him with a quirked eyebrow and sighs in tedium, asking in a mocking tone, “And you what? Want me to prove it?”

It’s painfully obvious he’s not even slightly interested.

“No,” Lestrade corrects, “I want to hire you to kill him.”

That finally catches his attention. Moriarty swivels in his chair to face Lestrade head-on, leans forward with his elbows against the desk, and hides a malicious smile behind interlacing fingers.

"Oh?"

“Or,” Lestrade shrugs, “At least stop him. He’s killed three children already, and he’s going to kill again. There’s no doubt about that.”

Moriarty remains silent, regarding him, and he shuffles his feet awkwardly under Moriarty’s intense stare. “Look, you know I wouldn’t come to you unless it was serious. And you know I wouldn’t be asking you something like this unless I thought it was the right thing to do. I need your help. Please.”

Moriarty tilts his head to the side, his voice low and sinister, lacking the usual playfulness, “And what will you give me in return?”

Immediately Lestrade’s hand is in his pocket, pulling out stacks of notes and dropping them onto the desk.

Moriarty frowns in disappointment and leans back again in disinterest, his eyes once again returning to the window. He sighs, “Money is dull, dear Inspector. I can get money from anywhere, from anyone, at any time.”

At of sheer petulance and nothing else, he reaches out and flicks the notes from his desk, scattering them to the floor.

“Booooorrrring~”

Lestrade lets out another huff of frustration as he places his hands on the desk, his head bowed in resignation, his face hidden.

That didn’t matter. Moriarty could read his expression without even needing to see it. And he knew exactly where it would go from here.

Finally Lestrade looks up at him, directly in the eyes, unflinching, “Fine, then. What do you want?”

Moriarty smiles.

“What I want from you, _Gregory_ …” Moriarty sings as he stands gracefully and rounds the desk.

Lestrade reacts by standing up tall, lifting his chin, bracing his ground as Moriarty approaches, anything to try and retain control despite his now increased heartbeat.

He moves in close and leans back against the desk in front of Lestrade, reaching out a hand to lightly play with one of Greg’s lapels, as his voice yet again sinks low, his eyes a dark shroud, “…is something no one else can give.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [What I want from you.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1380829) by [tyomawrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyomawrites/pseuds/tyomawrites)




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